


24 Happily Ever Anniversaries

by humanity



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Anniversary, Darillium (Doctor Who), F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanity/pseuds/humanity
Summary: River and the Doctor's 24 anniversaries on Darillium.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Kudos: 19





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted a fic in years, but with everything going on right now I wanted to write something that would cheer people up. I hope you enjoy it.

River hadn’t expected much, but she at least wanted _something_. She wasn’t exactly the type of person to go all dewey-eyed over a sappy card or a bouquet of flowers, but a special dinner would have been nice. Or a box of chocolates. Or a special dinner where every course was made of chocolate. Yes, that would be the perfect anniversary.

Instead, the Doctor had barely even mentioned it. He didn’t even acknowledge that it was their anniversary, in fact, until she brought it up at breakfast.

“Do you know what today is, darling?” she’d asked, watching him carefully from across the table.

The Doctor looked up from the newspaper in his hands and furrowed his brow. “Sunday? Or wait, Sunday was yesterday, wasn’t it? Monday, then. Sorry, it’s so difficult to keep track when it’s night all the time here.”

River chuckled. “Thank you, dear, but that’s not what I meant. Don’t you think there’s anything special about this Monday in particular?”

He set the newspaper down, furrowing his brow once again as he tried to remember. “Oh, did the restaurant finally take my advice and add fried rice to the menu?”

“Oh for god’s sake!” she said. “It’s our anniversary!”

His eyebrows shot up at once at that. “Oh, oh, yes! Yes, of course! Happy anniversary, darling.”

Maybe she was expecting too much of him. After all, he had traveled through times, galaxies, even dimensions she could only dream of. Maybe arbitrary dates on the calendar had lost their meaning to him by now. Maybe he’d spent so long without her after Manhattan that he’d simply forgotten when their anniversary was.

Of course, there was always another possible reason he failed to plan anything special, a worry that always sat coiled at the back of her mind. Maybe he never felt they were really married at all, not officially, anyway. If that was the case, then it wouldn’t matter when their “wedding” took place. It would just be another silly adventure, another fascinating tale to tell the next stray who wandered into the TARDIS.

River tried to push that thought from her mind as much as possible, but as the day dragged on and he still made no mention of anniversary plans, it kept creeping back to her consciousness. _It’s silly_ , she thought, _being so disappointed over such a small thing_. This was the same man, after all, who once forced her to kill him in an alternate reality. Not exactly a romantic, her Doctor.

By the time they were seated at their usual table on the balcony for dinner, she had relinquished all hope of a big anniversary gesture. They ordered their usual meals and a nice bottle of wine, and sat quietly listening to the gentle hum of the towers. That is one thing she did like about this new arrangement on Darillium: their ability to be quiet with one another. Before, they were always talking, always bickering, always trying to cram years of lost time into stolen afternoons and adventures that always ended too soon. Now, it felt like they had all the time in the world.

After dinner, they walked back to the TARDIS. She crossed through the console room and started down the hallway, making her way toward their bedroom. _Perhaps it’s for the best,_ she thought. _If he’d planned something, I’d have gotten all sentimental about it, and it would have all been spoiled anyway_. She was quite content with this train of thought until she realized that the Doctor wasn’t following her to their bedroom, and the only footsteps in the hallway were hers. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t realize that the Doctor was still in the console room, pulling levers and fiddling with the controls.

She turned back down the hallway and rushed toward the console. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He looked up at her and grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

“Don’t tell me,” she started. “Don’t tell me you _seriously_ planned something and you let me spend the _whole_ day wondering—”

“Shh,” the Doctor interrupted, his grin growing wider. “Just wait. You’ll like this, I promise.”

\--

He took her to a floating ballroom with invisible walls and floors. River could see the stars and the distant planets around her as though she were part of the galaxy itself, and she couldn’t help but look around in awe. She knew the walls were there even though she couldn’t see them, but the ballroom still felt infinite. She felt like she could rush out and walk through the whole universe if she wished.

The Doctor watched her reaction to the ballroom with an all-too-pleased smirk. “You can wipe that smug little grin from your face,” she said, tearing her gaze away from the stars and back to him.

“You didn’t really think I’d forget our anniversary, did you?” the Doctor asked.

“Well, you are an idiot,” she said, not even trying to hide her smile.

“True,” he said. “Even so, would you grant this idiot a dance?”

“Just this once,” she said, turning to look at the stars once again as he took her into his arms.


	2. Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River tries to make a romantic dinner but soon discovers that cooking is not quite as simple as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to everyone who's stress-baking through this quarantine!

All the cookbooks made it look so easy. Just crack a couple eggs, pour in some milk, put it in the oven and boom! Romantic dinner complete. The reality of cooking, River quickly realized, was much more complicated. She wished she had figured that out _before_ she spent the better part of four hours trying to make an apple cinnamon tart, but unfortunately, that was not the case. Now she sat on the floor of the TARDIS kitchen, glaring at the oven with an intensity that would have been much more frightening had there not been flour smudged across her forehead and nose. The tart would be done in five minutes, then her collection of slightly burnt dishes would be complete.

All she wanted was to do something special for her husband on their anniversary, especially after last year’s magical night of dancing among the stars. Instead, she’d been stuck in the kitchen all day, slowly going insane as she tried to figure out exactly how she managed to ruin _all_ the dishes when she thought she’d followed the recipes to the letter. The Doctor was undoubtedly wondering where she was and why she’d been “freshening up her makeup” for half the day now.

The timer went off and River opened the oven, coughing as a plume of smoke escaped from the door. She pulled out the tart, dismayed to find that the crust was more black than the golden-brown she’d been going for, and placed it on the table next to its similarly battered counterparts. She sighed, sweeping her gaze over the rock-hard dinner rolls, over-seasoned roast, and undercooked pasta that decorated the table. _Well, it’ll have to do_ , she thought, and turned to leave the kitchen in search of her husband.

It was at that moment that things started to go slightly more awry than they had been going before. After she left the kitchen, she found that the hallway was gone. It had simply vanished, leaving in its place a solid metal wall. River stepped closer, pressing her palm against it. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

The TARDIS groaned in response.

“Well, could you please let me through? It’s very impolite to just remove hallways, surely you know that.” At her words, the wall slowly lowered, allowing her passage. “Thank you,” she said.

River continued down the hallway for a few moments, then turned into the room she was expecting to be the Doctor’s study. Instead, she found herself standing in the middle of a tennis court she had never seen before. It was rare for her to stumble upon a room in the TARDIS she’d never encountered, and though she would normally welcome the opportunity, she had more pressing matters to get to tonight. “You’re messing with me, I know it,” River said to the air, scowling as she turned back to the hallway.

This proved to be rather difficult, as the hallway had now, for some reason, lost all gravity. River attempted to regain some sense of direction as she floated slowly up to the ceiling, but to no avail. “Oh, come on,” she said. “And after I spent such a long time on my hair? Why are you doing this?”

The TARDIS gave a small mechanical whirr.

“Well, that’s just rude,” River said, rolling her eyes. “My cooking is _not_ that bad.”

The TARDIS beeped in protest.

“Let me down. I won’t take no for an answer.”

River remained hovering above the floor for a long moment, until the TARDIS evidently decided that whatever danger the Doctor or the fabric of reality might be in from River’s cooking was no match for the danger of River herself. River sighed in relief as she felt the familiar pull of gravity return and she began to drift slowly to the ground. “Thank you,” River said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m off to find my husband, and I don’t want any more of your antics getting in the way.”

It didn’t take long for her to find his study after that. After a couple turns down a couple more hallways, she was standing in the familiar threshold. However, the Doctor was nowhere in sight and the room, which normally smelled of old books and lavender, now smelled like something burning. “Darling?” she called out.

She heard a crash somewhere behind the bookcase and then the Doctor appeared, suit ruffled, hair astray, and eyes wide. “Oh! Good evening, dear! Happy anniversary!” he said, smiling as he walked toward her.

River frowned at his disheveled appearance. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Why would anything be wrong?”

“Well, it smells like smoke in here and you look like you’ve just seen the end of the universe. Again.”

He frowned, looking down at his wrinkled sleeves. “That bad?” he asked.

River only raised an eyebrow in response.

The Doctor sighed. “If you must know, I was trying to cook,” he said. “It didn’t go quite as planned.”

River grinned. “Oh, really? And what were you cooking?”

The Doctor turned and started to walk back behind the bookcase. River followed. He led her to a small kitchenette, complete with counters covered in flour, dirty dishes, and books. The burning smell grew stronger with every step, and when the Doctor opened the toaster oven door he released a large cloud of angry gray smoke. “See?” he said, pointing inside the oven.

River leaned in closer, the smoke making her eyes water. Inside the oven she could see a tray covered in severely scorched cookies. “Looks delicious, sweetie,” she said, turning to him with a grin.

He closed the door, glaring at her. “Shut up, I know they’re dreadful,” he said.

“If it makes you feel any better, I just spent the entire day working on a surprise anniversary dinner that I’m pretty sure is completely inedible,” she said.

He chuckled. “Really? Here I was, thinking I’d be the one surprising you.”

“Well, I appreciate it, sweetie,” River said, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s just go to our usual table at the restaurant and accept that neither of us should ever become professional chefs.”

The Doctor smiled, taking her by the arm and leading her out of the study. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist: they're actually good cooks, but the TARDIS just kept messing with their ovens.


	3. Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor realizes that time is moving a bit faster on Darillium than he would like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up a bit more angsty than I was intending, oops!

It was dark, and the world around him was silent and still. Usually he’d be able to hear music and laughter coming from the restaurant, but tonight it sat cold and empty. He didn’t bother to check what time it was before he left the TARDIS, but based on the empty restaurant and the lack of other people around him he guessed it must be very late. Everyone else on Darillium was likely asleep. 

The Doctor had been sleeping, too, initially. It had been a pleasant night, a very pleasant night, in fact. It was his and River’s anniversary, and he had taken her to the planet Qualfari to see the summer festival. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sun. After over two years of watching the sun slowly dip beneath the horizon of Darillium, they had officially entered darkness about eight months before. Now they had twenty more years of darkness before them until the sun would start to rise again, but he tried not to think about that.

The festival was lovely. River even roped him into joining one of the parades, and laughed mercilessly when he was required to dress head to toe in traditional Qualfari summer wear (all sheer, all purple, and all ridiculous). There might have been a murder or two and a small mystery to solve, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. When they had both grown tired of the festivities River dragged him back to the TARDIS, peppering his face with kisses and leaving lipstick-colored stains in her wake. He barely had time to enter the coordinates to Darillium before she raced him back to their bedroom, and the rest of the night was a marvelous blur.

But then the dreams came. No matter how far he ran, they always seemed to find a way back to him. He saw River’s death a dozen times over—sometimes at the Library, sometimes on Darillium, sometimes in the TARDIS. It didn’t matter where or how, the dreams always ended the same: the Doctor, helpless, standing over River’s lifeless form.

These dreams had plagued him for years, but tonight it was especially devastating. The day’s festivities had made him feel invincible and young again. It felt like he had returned to the days when time and space bent at his mercy, when no one died, when he was always one step ahead of whatever devious foe challenged him. But the dreams were always there to bring him back to reality.

When he awoke, hearts pounding, he felt small and pitiful and useless. Even the sight of River asleep but very much alive in bed next to him wasn’t enough to comfort him. _What’s the point in saving everyone else when I can never save her?_ he thought. He didn’t know what was worse: that River’s death was inevitable or that it drew closer and closer with each passing year on Darillium. The past three years had felt more like three weeks, and he knew that their remaining time would fly past them as well. The thought of reaching that dreaded twenty-fourth year anytime soon, of abandoning her knowing what awaits her, was more than he could bear. How ironic, he thought, that he now found himself at the mercy of time.

He had snuck out of the TARDIS shortly after waking and started walking through the field behind the restaurant. He had grown to like this field over the past three years. Not much grew on Darillium due to the persistent lack of sunlight, but there were a few species of flowers that had been able to survive. They were tall, brushing against his knees as he walked past, and they covered the entire field. He imagined they must be gorgeous in the sunlight, but under the darkness of night they looked grey and timid. Even so, he picked a handful of them, running his fingertips delicately over the petals. He tried to figure out what type of flower they were, but couldn’t place them. _I must be getting old_ , he thought. _Old and tired. Can’t even remember the names of flowers_.

He sighed, turning in the direction of the TARDIS. He held the flowers in one hand as he made his way back. There was no way of telling how long he’d been gone, and he didn’t want River to wake up and wonder where he was.

When he got back to their bedroom, however, he found River already awake. She sat in bed, writing in her diary, and smiled at him when he entered. “Couldn’t sleep either, hm?” she asked.

He nodded, smiling. “I went for a walk,” he said. “Got you some flowers.”

She grinned, letting the diary fall onto the bed as she sat up. “Oh, how lovely!” she said. “Let me see!”

He handed her the flowers. They had a slight pink hue to them, something he hadn’t noticed outside. “I can’t remember what they’re called,” he said. “I just thought they were nice.”

“They are,” River said, kissing him briefly before standing up and crossing to the door. “Let me just find a vase to put them in.”

He watched her disappear into the hall, then his gaze drifted around the room before falling on her diary, still laying open on the bed. He didn’t want to peek—he really _shouldn’t_ peek, even though he’s the one with the spoilers now. But he caught a glimpse of the last sentence she’d written: _Time is moving too fast here_.

“These are so pretty,” River called from down the hall. “I think they’ll last at least a week in water, don’t you?”

“Yes, dear,” he called back. “A week sounds about right.”

She reappeared in the doorway then, holding the flowers in a large white vase. “What do you think?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” he said. “The flowers look nice, too.”

She scoffed. “Oh, stop,” she said, crossing to the nightstand, where she set down the vase.

He stared at the flowers, which did, indeed, look much prettier in the light. He thought of what they would look like a week from now, wilted and dried out. _But maybe that isn’t important,_ he thought. _Maybe a flower is supposed to wilt. The wilting isn’t the important part. What’s important is that it even bloomed at all._


End file.
